


48 Hours

by NaughtyLokiStories



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Ginger Hiddles, Shameless Smut, poor luke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5604739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyLokiStories/pseuds/NaughtyLokiStories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You buy Tom at a celebrity auction and have 48 hours to spend with him. Wonder how you'll spend the time?...</p>
            </blockquote>





	48 Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to the Tumblr follower who told me they wished they could buy me Tom for the weekend.

Prologue

“Tom, this is a bad idea. I don’t think you should go through with this.”

“Don’t be silly Luke,” Tom says shaking his head.

“I know you have the best intentions with this but it’s not safe,” Luke says obviously concerned.

“Luke, if I can survive going to Africa unscathed I think I can survive a celebrity auction,” Tom says reassuringly.

“But you have no idea who could buy you! It might be some sex crazed fan of yours!” Luke says pleadingly.

Tom doubles over with laughter, “I highly doubt that. The organizers are keeping who’s involved a secret so no one will know I’m there until I’m on stage. Besides, this charity event costs money, money that my average fan doesn’t have. Just the entrance fee alone is £1,000. I’ll probably go to some old lady who wants me to serenade her with Shakespeare.”

“Thomas, as your friend, I don’t approve of this,” Luke says.

“The list of patrons is available, do background checks on them if it will ease your mind,” Tom says gently. 

 

Later That Month

“I can’t believe we’re here!” Your best friend says excitedly looking around the auction house. You shrug your shoulders not knowing what to say. “How can I ever repay you?” She asks.

“Don’t get your hopes up yet, we don’t know what celebrities are here. There’s a good probability we won’t like any of them,” you say.

Your friend stares at you, “Don’t be so negative!”

“I’m not being negative I’m being realistic. Think of all the celebrities there are, and then think of the few we like,” you say defensively.

“Well then I’m grateful for you to risk £2,000 on a chance we may not buy anyone,” she says.

You shrug your shoulders again, “I have all this money I don’t know what to do with. Besides, I like spoiling my friends,” you say happily. The two of you walk around the room people watching, you are easily the two youngest people at the auction. You can feel their eyes piercing through you, you know they are wondering how someone so young could afford to be there; especially since neither of you are decked out in gold and jewels. They probably chalk you up to be an heiress, which you realize wouldn’t be completely incorrect. “Come on, let’s go pick out some good seats. Have to be able to flirt with our sexy men,” you say winking to your friend making her burst out in giggles.

Sitting in the middle of the third row, the two of you begin to chat about who you wish was available for purchase.

“I would love to buy Darren Hayes!” you confess to her.

“You do realize he’s gay?” she says knowing full well you do.

“So? Just because he’s gay doesn’t mean I can’t take him out to dinner? Hell I’ll invite his husband along. I’ve been a fan of his for fifteen years and I have yet to meet him! Damn right I would buy his ass in a heartbeat,” you say.

“Oh,” your friend says looking a bit guilty.

“But shit that don’t mean I wouldn’t try flirtin’ with him,” you say cheerfully.

She giggles, “You’re terrible.”

“What about you?” you ask her.

“Let’s see… ooh! Chris Evans, Andrew Garfield, Joseph Gordon-Levitt,” she says in a rush.

“Ohh Chris Evans! I wonder if there will be American celebrities here? I just assumed there would only be British ones,” you say.

“Oh good thought,” your friend says.

“But! If they got a big American celebrity like Robert Downey Jr. that could draw a lot of money in for the institute,” you speculate.

“I hope there are American celebrities!” she says excitedly.

“Wait, what about Benedict? I thought you liked Benedict?” you ask her confused.

“He’s cute. I’d song his face off but I wouldn’t sleep with him,” she says. You bark out a laugh in surprise, the nearest patrons stare down their noses at you disapprovingly. “Who else would you bid on?” your friend asks.

“You really have to ask?” you say with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s yours, I promise. I won’t bid on him. My thanks to you for inviting me,” she says.

You squeeze her hand, “Thank you. I didn’t want to say anything and come off rude.”

She rolls her eyes at you, “Besides, you are better suited for him then I am.”

“Ahh yes. I am a fouled mouth American, a much better match then you,” you say laughing.

Your friend sighs, “You two can talk about literature and Shakespeare.”

You gasp, “That reminds me!” you say pointing your finger at her. “I have a bone to pick with him about his precious Shakespeare!”

“Oh my God,” your friend mutters into the distance. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the auction will begin momentarily. Everyone please take your seats,” the auctioneer says. You notice there are more men than women in the audience which you find slightly creepy. Then again, it means a better chance for you and your friend. “A reminder of the rules everyone. As you know this is a blind auction; you will not know who you are bidding on until they are on stage. To make this evening fair, you are only allowed to purchase one celebrity. So please, choose carefully as your purchase is final. You are guaranteed forty eight hours with your celebrity; however, the details of the engagement are left to the two of you to work out. And of course, all of tonight’s proceeds go to Cancer Research. Shall we begin?” The auctioneer asks smiling. 

You squeeze your friend’s hand in anticipation. This was it, the first chance to bid on a celebrity. Who, who, who? Trills through your brain.

“The first celebrity of the night is Aiden Turner,” The auctioneer announces as muffled “Oohhs” greet his entrance onto the stage. “Starting bid at £500, do I hear £550, £550, £600, £650,” the auctioneer rattles off.

Turning to your friend you ask, “Who is he?”

She stares at you blankly, “And you call yourself an Anglophile.”

“£750 in the back, do I hear £800? £800 to the lady in red, £850? £850 in the back? £800 to the lady in the red going once … going twice ….. SOLD! To the lady in the red,” the auctioneer slams the gravel finalizing the sale.

“It goes so fast!” your friend says amazed.

“Mmhm. I hope we get to see a bidding war, those are so exciting!”

“Have you ever been to an auction before?” she asks you.

“A few months ago. My Dad sold a painting through Sotheby’s.” you reply.

“Sotheby’s?” she asks wrinkling her nose.

“And you give me shit for not knowing who Aiden Turner is,” you say laughing. The second celebrity has already been auctioned off by the time the two of you are done bickering.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have the great honor of presenting to you Lord Snow, Kit Harington.” The auctioneer says as Kit walks out on stage. The bidding goes on for slightly longer than the previous two celebrities. He goes to the women sitting right in front of you for £985. “Our next celebrity is the lovely Karen Gillan, former companion of the Doctor,” The auctioneer says slightly bowing to her.

“I think she is so pretty,” you tell your friend.

You friend smiles at you, “You have a thing for red heads don’t you?”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Her, that one co-worker of yours, Ginger Hiddles.”

Your eyes widen at the mention of Ginger Hiddles, “I fuckin’ love Ginger Hiddles you know better than to get me started!”

“The bid is at £1,000 to the man in the hat. £1,100, £1,200, £1,250 to the man on the phone … going once… going twice … SOLD! To the man on the phone,” the auctioneer announces. The next celebrity steps out onto stage.

“How many people do you think there will be?” you friend asks.

“I don’t know. They are going pretty fast so maybe quite a few? Or maybe they are hurrying so the two parties can work out agreements, or maybe so the tabloids don’t find out?” you say.

“This is already the fifth celebrity,” she says as Jenna-Louise Coleman leaves the stage for £1,450. 

“This marks the half way point of the auction. We will reconvene in 20 minutes. The auctioned celebrities are free to interact with you,” the auctioneer says.

“Half way?” you panic. “That was six celebrities! Six! That means there are only six more to go!” you say.

“We aren’t going to get any celebrities,” she says sadly.

“I’m not so sure,” you say looking around. “Look at the celebrities so far… Game of Thrones and Doctor Who actors. I have a feeling the next six are going to be major stars.”

“You think so?” she asks hopefully.

A few minutes later the auctioneer calls the audience back, you notice a few of the seats are empty. “We will now commence with the auction, good luck everyone,” the auctioneer says. Your friend looks at you nervously.

“Our next celebrity, James McAvoy,” he says as James saunters out onto the stage. You hear a loud gasp next to you. You friend is gripping her seat trying to remain calm. “Opening bid at £1,000 pounds, do I hear £1,000?” he calls out. She looks as you for approval, you were paying for this after all. As soon as you nod your head her hand flies up tightly gripping her paddle.

“£1,000 to the lady in the green, £1,200? £1,400, to the lady in back. £1,400,” the auctioneer calls. You friend nearly jumps out of her seat with each bid. James notices this and starts to strike various poses waving to both your friend and the women in the back. “Do I have £1,500? £1,500 £1,700 to the women in the back. Bid is to you madam,” he says looking at your friend. She raises her bidding panel, “£1,800 to the lady in green. £1,900?” The women in the back accepts the bid, you friend does not raise her paddle.

You look at her urging her on. “Don’t stop now!” you tell her.

“I can’t spend £2,000 on him,” she tells you.

“This is a once in the life time opportunity!” you try to tell her.

“Does the lady wish to bid?” the auctioneer asks.

You friend shakes her head, “SOLD! To the lady in the back for £1,800 pounds.” James blows your friend a kiss as he walks off stage.

“Maybe you can meet him after the event?” you say trying to cheer her up. 

“Next up we have Richard Armitage,” the auctioneer calls out.

“Ohhh he’s handsome!” you whisper to your friend as he enters.

“You should bid on him!” she says.

“No,” you say shaking your head.

“Why not? You just told me to bid £2,000 on James,” she says confused.

“You like James. I’m not spending £2,000 pounds on someone who I think is just good looking,” you say.

“Opening bid starts at £2,000 pounds,” he calls out.

“Prices are going up,” she whispers to you.

“Yeah I noticed,” you whisper back. Richard goes to a buyer on the phone for £3,500 pounds.

“Only three celebrities left ladies and gentlemen. Up next, David Tennant,” the auctioneer says. Your friend nearly falls out of her seat as he walks onto stage.

“So help me God I will smack you if you do not win him!” you say to her.

“Opening bid at £2,000 pounds, do I hear £2,000?” the auctioneer calls out. Your friends arm snaps into the air to make a bid.

“£2,000, £2,100, £2,200 £2,300,” with each increasing amount your friend becomes more and more frantic. David does a little spin causing a spike in the bidding. You friend is battling three other women in the audience for him. “£3,600 to the lady on the phone,” the auctioneer says. Two other women drop from the bidding.

“Keep going!” you urge your friend on. She raises her paddle accepting the £3,700 bid.

“£3,700 to the lady in green do I hear £3,800? £3,800,” the women on the phone shakes her head no. “£3,700, going once… going twice… SOLD! To the lady in green,” he calls out. Your friend nearly faints from excitement.

“I won him! I won him!” she whispers squeezing you tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says over and over again.

“I can’t breathe,” you say trying to wiggle away from her.

“Our next celebrity is Benedict Cumberbatch,” the auctioneer says.

“Oh my God I won forty eight hours with David! Oh my God! What am I going to do with him?” she asks you.

“I don’t know Dear that’s for the two of you to decide,” you say smiling at her.

“SOLD! To the lady in the fifth row,” you hear the auctioneer announce.

You friend squeezes your hand, “I’m so sorry you didn’t get a celebrity.”

You shrug your shoulders, “I knew it was a long shot. Don’t worry about it.”

“Our last celebrity ladies and gentlemen, Tom Hiddleston,” now you are the one gasping as Tom walks out on stage in all his glory.

“HE’S GINGER! WHY IS HE GINGER? He’s ginger oh Lord help me,” you say hyperventilating desperately trying to stay calm. Maybe sitting in the front wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Bidding starts at £2,500 pounds, do I hear £2,500?” he calls out. You look around the room seeing who your competition is.

“Why aren’t you bidding?” your friend asks you.

“I’m letting the others drive up the price, then I’ll enter when only the serious bidders are left.”

“£2,800, £3,000, £3,200,” the auctioneer rattles off.

“He’s going to be expensive!” your friend whispers to you.

“And worth every penny,” you reply. You catch Tom’s gaze offering him a small smile, he smiles back at you winking. It’s enough for you to enter the bidding.

“£3,500 to the lady in the front. £3,600, £3,700, £3,800,” three of the other bidders drip out of the auction. “£4,000 in the back, £4,100, £4,200,” the auctioneer continues. You find yourself in a bidding war with another woman.

“Is this bitch serious? I don’t have time for this!” you whisper to your friend. “£5,000!” You call out. A few gasps are heard among the crowd.

“£5,000 to the lady in the front. Do I hear £5,100? £5,000 going once… going twice…” his pause seems to last an eternity.

“SOLD! To the lady in the front,” he calls out.

“Holy shit, I just bought Tom Hiddleston. I bought Tom Hiddleston!” you say to your friend as it slowly sinks in. He is all yours for forty eight hours.

“I’m so excited for you!” she whispers to you excitedly.

The auctioneer pounds his gavel, “Thank you everyone for coming to the auction tonight.”

“What am I going to say to him? I can’t function when he has red hair,” you confess to your friend.

She rolls her eyes, “I am sure you will think of something. You paid £5,000 for him, don’t let it go to waste.”

“Hello darling,” a voice says.

Turning, you are greeted by Tom’s smiling face. “Mr. Hiddleston,” you breathe out.

“Please, call me Tom,” he says.

“Excuse me,” your friend says off to claim her own prize.

“I’m extremely flattered, that was an exorbitant amount of money you paid for me.”

You shrug your shoulders, “I go after the things I want.”

“Indeed,” Tom says with a smirk.

“I know you must be terribly busy so whatever fits into your schedule is fine with me,” you say.

“I’m free in two weeks. Does that work for you darling?” he asks.

“Of course,” you reply.

“I should let you know that Luke, my publicist, insists on accompanying us,” Tom says looking a little embarrassed.

You shake your head knowingly, “I figured as much.” The two of you work out the remaining details as Tom kisses your hand signaling his leave.

His lips on your skin leave you dizzy as your friend rushes up to you, “How did it go?”

“It’s a date,” you wink at her.

Two Weeks Later

A limo drops you off in front of a restaurant. It is only eight o’clock but the place looks deserted, no doubt Luke’s doing. He did not want this to end in some free for all tabloid fiasco. As you enter the lobby you see the two of them chatting away, they rise as you approach.

“Mr. Winsor,” you say smiling, reaching to shake his hand.

“Call me Luke. I apologize for this … protocol,” he says sheepishly.

“I understand completely, best you protect him. You don’t know who could have bought him!” you say. Luke gives Tom a smug look of satisfaction. “For all you know a sex crazed maniac could have bought him! Or worse yet…. A boring old codger!” you say dramatically.

“I like her,” Tom whispers to Luke.

You flash a smile at Tom, “Don’t worry Luke. I’ll try my hardest not to make you feel like the awkward third wheel. Shall we proceed?” you motion to the dining area.

Tom steps in line next to you, “You look stunning darling.”

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls,” you reply cheekily. 

Sitting at the table the three of you muse over the menu. After a few minutes the waiter comes to take your order, “Drinks?” he asks. Both men order glasses of wine but you decline. You know you need your head about you tonight. Besides, you are such a light weight you know after one drink you will be moaning in Tom’s ear telling him how badly you want to suck on his cock. No, no liquid courage for you tonight.

“I’ll have the Caesar salad with grilled chicken,” Tom says.

“I’ll have the chicken parmesan,” Luke says.

“I’ll have the chicken cordon bleu … What’s the biggest steak you have?” you ask the waiter.

“That would be a Porterhouse miss,” he answers.

“And one of those,” you say.

As the waiter walks away you hear Tom say, “It’s nice to see a women with appetite.”

“The steak isn’t for me,” you say looking at Tom, “It’s for you.”

“For me?” he asks confused.

“Thomas you are 6’2. You need to eat more than a salad,” you say matter-of-factly.

“That’s what I tell him but he doesn’t listen to me,” Luke says.

“Act, don’t tell,” you say to Luke.

As the waiter arrives with the food and drink in hand; inevitably, the conversation turns to theater, art, and literature.

“I hear you will be returning to the stage?” you ask him.

“I want to, but I don’t think it will be for another year or so,” he says.

“What do you want to perform?” you ask him.

“Shakespeare without a doubt,” he says passionately.

“Oh please Thomas, there are other works besides Shakespeare! Branch out a little! If you insist on performing him at least do Titus Andronicus. At least that play hasn’t been done to death a thousand times over … actually no I take that back. I think you and Benedict would be superb in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead!” you say amused by your own idea.

Luke suddenly bursts out laughing, “That is a genius idea!”

“I’m afraid I don’t know that work,” Tom says confused sipping on his wine.

“Of course you don’t,” you say gently, “It’s not canon.”

“Luke could you get me—” he starts, “Luke what are you doing?” he asks his publicist.

“I’m contacting Benedict. The idea is brilliant!” Luke says smiling at him.

“I see Tom as Guildenstern,” Luke says to you.

“Without a doubt,” you say nodding in agreement.

“What would you have me perform then? Other then Shakespeare?” Tom asks.

“You would make an excellent Dorian Gray, but not on stage. The stage can’t do justice to The Picture of Dorian Gray,” you say sadly.

“You wouldn’t rather see me in The Importance of Being Earnest?” he asks starting on his second glass of wine.

“No. I love Wilde’s plays but they lack substance. But his fairy tales, his essays, that’s where he truly displays his brilliance. I’d much rather read The Soul of Man Under Socialism or De Profundis than one of his plays.” you say.

“Why do you prefer him over Shakespeare?” Tom asks.

“Wilde was human. He had his faults, he made bad decisions. Shakespeare has been so lionized over the ages that people,” you pause. “No offense … people worship Shakespeare like he is some sort of God. They tend to … or choose to forget that he was human too. Victim to the same human needs, wants and vices,” you say.

“How so?” Luke chimes in.

You turn your attention to Luke not wanting Tom to think you are belittling his favorite playwright. “A Mid Summer’s Night Dream. Do you know why he included fairies?” you ask. The two men shake their heads no. “Money, pure and simple,” you say.

“I don’t follow your meaning,” Tom says.

“Prior to Shakespeare writing A Mid Summer’s Night Dream, fairies were vile, nasty, feared creatures, both wild and domestic,” you say.

“Domestic fairies?” Tom says laughing into his wine.

“They would pinch you if your house wasn’t clean enough to their standards.” Tom doubles over with laughter.

“As I was saying, fearsome creatures!” you say giggling. “These fairies were very real to the average Elizabethan. They dealt with them on a daily basis, they did not want to be reminded of them when they escaped to the theater,” you say.

“But he had to include fairies, the entire play is centered around them,” Luke says.

“So he transforms them from monstrous creatures into harmless beings to draw in the crowds. Genius!” Tom says.

“And utterly destroys over a thousand years of English fairy lore with a single stroke of his pen!” you say hotly. “The representations of fairies we have today come directly from A Mid Summer’s Night Dream. Leave it to the great Shakespeare to destroy well established mythology,” you say sadly.

“That’s why you don’t like him!” Tom realizes. You shrug your shoulders in defeat.

“I won’t ask what you think about Bram Stoker then,” Luke says teasingly.

“Oh he’s not so bad. He was just projecting Victorian fears onto a historical figure. Oscar Wilde would have much more of an issue with him then I ever would,” you say. The two men look at you curiously. “Stoker stole his first love away from him,” you state.

Tom lets out another laugh, “Do you know everything about the man?”

“I know Wilde like you know Shakespeare’s works,” You say proudly.

By now the meal lies forgotten as the three of you continue talking late into the night. Tom has completely devoured his steak thanking you for it admitting he should have more proper meals like that. The waiter returns to your table with the desert menu (and more wine) but the three of you are all too full to eat anything more.

Luke takes a glance at his watch, “I am retiring for the night. I think I can trust you enough to be alone with Tom.” Luke says more to Tom then you. Luke takes his leave leaving the two of you alone.

“What now darling? The night is still young,” Tom says taking your hand in his while sipping on his wine. Was that his third or fourth glass of wine? 

“I don’t know. What’s there to do in London at 11 p.m.?” you ask.

“We could go for a moonlight stroll,” Tom says dreamily.

“It’s almost freezing out,” you say flatly.

“So no stroll?”

“No.”

“I have a fireplace in my apartment. Have a nightcap with me before I see you off to your hotel?” He asks. What the fuck is a nightcap? You wonder. These British people with their British words! You know what you would like it to mean. Even if Tom was suggesting something innocent (which he probably was) you are not going to pass up the opportunity to go to his apartment.

“Sounds lovely,” you say smiling to him. With the bill paid the two of you enter into the waiting limo that had originally dropped you off so many hours ago. The ride is silent but not awkwardly so; it is a comfortable silence. You steal a glance at Tom, he looks deep in thought. You wonder what he is contemplating, his next role no doubt. This was the last free time he would have for a while, he told you as much. You take another look at him when you catch him doing the same. Your eyes meet and now Tom is the one blushing. Just what was he contemplating exactly?

Fifteen minutes later you feel the limo come to a stop, “We’re here darling.” Stepping out of the limo you feel the beating of your heart increase at an alarming speed. You can’t believe you are actually going to enter his apartment. Who knows what treasures lurk inside, or what surprises are waiting for you? 

Like him, the outside of his house is modest and unassuming. Tom unlocks the door ushering you in.

Turning on the light he points to the couch, “Make yourself at home darling.” You do as you’re told walking over to his couch, feeling slightly ill as you sit. Is this actually happening? Sitting inside Tom Hiddleston’s apartment about to have drinks with him? That could lead to who knows where? You cautiously look around his apartment not wanting to appear nosey. Smiling to yourself, you spy the bookshelves from his home videos. It was surprisingly Spartan but logical. With Tom off traveling so much there was little point in decorating. Tom returns with two glasses and a bottle of champagne. You thank him taking the glass from him as he starts fiddling with the fireplace. You take a small sip of the liquid bracing yourself for the offensive alcohol when you are pleasantly surprised. Never had you any champagne (or any alcohol for that matter) that tasted … good. Not just good, delicious! This could certainly prove to be a problem. Tom sits next to you nursing his glass watching the fire crackle. You take a rather large gulp of your drink already feeling the effects of it. The light the fire casts plays on Tom’s ginger locks. You long to reach out and stroke his hair, definitely on your way to getting tipsy. He is sitting so close to you, you can feel his body heat radiating off of him. Or was it the fire? You head starts to spin thanks to both Tom and the alcohol. You could so easily run your fingers along the length of his leg, but Tom refills your glass breaking your thought. His hand covers yours steadying the glass, his fingers lingering on yours. 

“Oh! I have something to show you,” Tom says suddenly, “Follow me.”

You follow him out of the living room into a hallway and up a flight of stairs. Halfway up the stairs you finish your second glass of champagne. With the stairs being conquered Tom turns left resting his hand on a doorknob. He stops turning to look at you. You smile at him holding up your empty glass. Still holding the bottle all this time, he refills your glass. You accidently down half the glass in one gulp. Yep, you are good and tipsy now. Tom turns the knob entering the room; following in after him you quickly look around realizing … it’s his bedroom. You suppress a giggle, why am I in his bedroom? What could he possibly want to show me in here? Tom sets his glass and bottle on a table turning to look at you. He holds one arm out wide, his other hand resting on your back. “What do you think?” You hear him say as you stiffen at his touch. The gentle yet firmly applied pressure he exerts on your back makes you wet. Now that’s just sad. I should not be that turned by his fingertips you think as you feel your desire for him pool in your panties. “This is what you wanted, is it not?” Tom asks smiling.

“What?” you giggle out of nervousness.

“You don’t honestly expect me to believe that you paid £5,000 for dinner and a bit of sightseeing,” Tom says.

“I d-d-don’t follow,” you stutter, damn alcohol.

“I know you want me. You told me so yourself. Do you remember? ‘I go after the things I want.’ I admit your confidence intrigued me,” Tom says now towering over you. You feel your entire body flush becoming uncomfortably hot. “And after tonight, picking on my poor Shakespeare,” he flashes you a teasing smile, “How could I resist you?” His hands rest on your hips pulling you against him. “I do so love a confident woman. I offer myself to you freely. That is, if you will have me,” he says.

“Thomas you’re drunk you don’t know what you’re saying,” you say coyly fingering one of his shirt buttons.

“Am I?” he asks pointing to his full glass on the table. “You have had far more to drink then me little one,” he says pushing your hair behind your ear. You shiver at his touch. “You can do anything you want to me,” he whispers in your ear.

“Thomas I respect you as an actor and as a person. I don’t want you thinking I bought you solely for … sexual services,” you say embarrassed.

“But you don’t deny that you want me,” he says. You feel your entire body becoming hot with desire. “The very fact that you are trying to talk me out of this proves your sincerity,” he says gently. “I want to know what you would do to me …You can do anything…” he trails off.

“Anything?” you echo.

“Anything!” he grins down at you. If this be a dream let me sleep, you pray. Taking a deep breath you down the rest of your champagne. You are going to need all the liquid courage you can get to play the role of the confident women Tom has pegged you to be. 

You toss the empty glass down next to you before intertwining your fingers in his ginger locks, tugging on his curls pulling him into a kiss. Your lips hover over his before crashing into them, forcing them open. Your tongue invades his mouth as your hands go to work on his shirt, his hands roaming up and down your back. Guiding him over to the bed, you throw his shirt on the floor. Grinning, standing half naked before you Tom removes your dress in one smooth motion. You gasp in mock shock pushing him down on the bed. Tom tries crawling away but you pin him to the bed straddling his hips. “Where do you think you’re going? If you leave now you’d miss this,” you say. You watch as Tom’s eyes widen and feel his cock harden beneath you as you remove your undergarments. Tom reaches for your breasts caressing them lovingly. He rubs his thumbs over your nipples until they harden into stiff peaks making you shiver with excitement. Suddenly he bucks his hips causing you to fall forward.

“Now, now,” you moan out as his clothed cock rubs against your mound, “No distractions.”

Leaning over him, you kiss along his jaw before moving down his neck. Swirling your tongue around his Adam ’s apple you pause to suck on it. Tom moans beneath you making you giggle from the vibrations. You move down to his collarbone, biting and sucking along it. Tom shifts under you only further exciting you. You love the way he moves under you, reacting to your actions. You make your way down his chest, past his ribs to his stomach kissing, licking and biting along the way trying to memorize his entire body with your mouth. You tease him kissing along the top of his pants as you began to undo them. Tugging them off you notice Tom has leaked through his boxers, poor baby, you smile to yourself pulling off the rest of his clothes. Gazing down you drink in Tom’s slim naked form under you. Hovering over him, careful not to touch his towering cock, you bite and suck along his hip bone. He writhes and moans under you, his hips squirming under you trying to get away but desperate for more. You feel a familiar dull ache between your own legs. 

You can feel his eyes on you as you nestle down in between his legs. You kiss the insides of his thighs feeling him twitch underneath you. Biting him harshly you are rewarded with a low moan. Moving up to his cock, you lick around his base. He gasps thrusting into the air silently begging you to continue. You firmly place your hands on his hips to prevent him from moving. You lick around his base once more before running your tongue along the length of his cock. When you get to his tip you swirl your tongue it enjoying the smoothness of it. He moans out sharply, arching his back. As your lips wrap around him you look up at Tom and watch his eyes roll into the back of his head as you take him into your mouth. You suck on him forcefully as you feel his fingers tangle into your hair. You move along his length taking him in further each time. You suck on him languidly enjoying the feel of him in your mouth, the hard smoothness of him gliding in and out of you. The slow pace causes Tom to moan in frustration which only pleases you.

“Use your words,” you say to him sweetly before returning to his cock.

“Faster, faster please,” he moans out. You smile around him slowing down even more. He thrusts his hips in annoyance causing you to halt.

“I bet you’re use to getting what you want aren’t you Mr. Hiddleston?” you ask him wickedly. Tom remains silent. “Aren’t you?” You say licking his tip. He whimpers out a response as his cock twitches. You feel your own desire increase as you realize he is fully enjoying being taken by you. You grow bolder in your actions.

Crawling back on top of him you kiss him passionately once more before straddling his face. You feel your heart race as your clit begins to throb just by sitting on him. Your head spins as you brace yourself against him, his hands firmly on your hips. You gasp as you feel his tongue explore between your slick folds. You shudder as his tongue glides over your clit. Moaning, you grind into him trying to make him go faster. His tongue circles around your aching clit before taking it between his teeth sucking on it. You double over in pleasure instantly riding his face, desperate for more friction. Tom’s hands squeeze your hips as his tongue continues to tease you. Your breathing becomes ragged as you start to feel your stomach tightening.

“Tom,” you moan, “Harder.” He brings you to the edge before abruptly stopping. Was this payback? You look down glaring at him but he only winks at you. You slide off of his face, your desire drenching his mouth and goatee. Drawing his fingers to the wetness, he licks them clean.

“Better then pudding darling,” he says smiling at you. You feel yourself blush at the compliment. 

Straddling his hips again you rub yourself against him. You listen to his moans and whimpers as you move along his length. His hands roam to your breasts squeezing and fondling them before taking your nipple between his fingers. He rolls it before pinching it hard making you quicken your pace. It only adds to the intense longing you feel between your legs. Hovering over his cock, you lower yourself onto him slowly. As you slide down clenching around him you watch with delight as Tom arches his back throwing his head back in pleasure. You bounce up and down on him a few times milking him for all his worth. Suddenly, Tom sits up attacking your breasts with his mouth. He bites and sucks on your breasts hungrily as you ride him. Wrapping your arms around him you claw at his back as he begins to thrust into you. Throwing your head back you hang on to Tom as he thrusts into you over and over again. His mouth latches on to your nipple teasing it as your walls further clench around him. Gasping for air, you push him onto his back riding him as hard and as fast as you can. Before long he is gripping your hips tightly groaning and muttering.

“Come for me,” you whisper to Tom. He thrusts into you a few more times before you feel his body trembling underneath you. He throws his head back as you feel a heat spread inside your body. You ride out his orgasm slowing your pace as his breath becomes more ragged. You pause smiling down at his body, glistening with sweat.

He pulls you down towards him kissing you haphazardly. He plants more kisses anywhere on you he can reach.

“That was amazing darling,” he says smiling at you breathless. You feel yourself blush with pride as you nestle into his neck. “Let me return the favor,” he says running his hand through your hair. “What’s your favorite position darling?” he asks. You bite down on his shoulder now becoming suddenly shy. “Tell me,” Tom says rolling on top of you. He places gentle kisses on your breasts waiting for your answer. You bite your lip anxiously, “Tell me,” he repeats again but you remain silent. He leans in whispering into your ear, “Going to make me work for it are you?” His hand trail down to your opening slipping a finger inside. You moan as you feel him inside you once more. He slips a second finger into you slowly pumping you driving you wild. Taking his thumb, he begins rubbing your clit in time with his fingers. Arching your back you desperately want him to go faster, to grant you your release. He increases his speed pumping you faster as his begins tonguing and sucking on your nipples; his harden cock rubbing against you as you writhe against him.

“Fuck me Thomas, please,” you moan out.

“Position darling,” he says your flesh still in between his teeth. 

You barely manage, “Um… I like um… I don’t know it’s name… I’m on my back … with my legs go over your shoulders.”

Tom smiles at you, “I know it darling,” he says reassuringly.

Parting your legs, he throws them over his shoulders leaning over you. Your breath hitches as you feel him at your entrance. He pushes into you slowly as you let out a strained moan. He thrusts into you harder, filling you entirely as you ball your fists into the sheets. He hits your core as you scream out muttering nonsense. You know you must look ridiculous all scrunched up under him but you don’t care. All you can focus on is the intense pleasure he is providing you.

“Faster! Harder!” You beg him. As he complies to your request he slams into you over and over again, hitting your center each time. Breathless, you try arching your back allowing him even more access.

“You look so beautiful,” you hear Tom say over you. You smile at him your breath coming in quick short successions now. You feel your stomach tightening once more as your walls clench around him tightly. A few moments later your climax hits you as you come hard with Tom still pounding into you. It is enough to send Tom over the edge once more.

He lays on top of you breathing hard, his eyes glazed over in lust. You run your fingers through his hair, just enjoying the feeling of him on top of you.

“How was that darling?” Tom asks you.

“That was wonderful thank you Tom,” you say smiling down at him. He wraps you in his arms holding you tightly. Suddenly you feel tears stinging your eyes as you wipe them away.

“What’s wrong darling?” he asks concerned.

“I’m just a little sad,” you confess.

“Why?” he asks stroking your hair.

“Tonight was so wonderful. The dinner, the conversation, the intimacy; and we only have forty eight hours of it,” you say sighing sadly.

“Oh don’t be silly. I can see you as often as I want! And I definitely want to see you again darling,” he says happily.

“You do?” you ask excitedly hugging Tom tightly.

“Of course darling!” he says.

“I can’t wait to hear what Luke has to say about this,” you giggle.

“Who cares what he says? He didn’t even want me in the auction! And what a travesty that would have been! What was it you said to me? ‘I always get what I want?’”


End file.
